Honestly, I'm Honest

Benjamin Clawhauser watched as his red fox friend left the Bug Burga joint with his lunch in a doggy bag. "I need to speak with the chief about something," Nick said, before farewelling Benji with a "Stay out of trouble!"

Benjamin returned the favour with a playful "Same for you, Wilde!"

No sooner than Nick had driven round the block, an alarm next door sounded. Clawhauser sighed. "Looks like my lunch hour has turned into a punch hour."

The cheetah officer raced out of Bug Burga to see a weasel racing away with a zipped up duffel bag, with a pig huffing and puffing after him. The pig turned to him. "Officer! Thank God, you're here! My shop was just robbed! The weasel's gettin' away!"

"I'm right on it, sir!" Clawhauser barked as he got down and sprinted away on all fours. The weasel was devilishly slick. The perp slid under a wired fence, which Benjamin had to spring over, losing some momentum in the process. The officer used a free paw to open his radio. "Dispatch, this is Officer Clawhauser! We've got a 10-15 situation here! A criminal – slim weasel, wear's an ill-fitting shirt and blue jeans – has stolen some shop goods and is making a getaway towards the bus depot! I'm in pursuit! Standby!"

"Officer Clawhauser, we hear you loud and clear and you're acknowledged. A cruiser is on standby to intercept. Good luck."

"Okay," thought Benjamin as he went back to racing down on all fours, "Time to put my training to the test!"

The weasel slid in and out of traffic. Vehicles screeched to a stop as the drivers honked frantically.

"Watch it!"

"Look out!"

Clawhauser just used his toned legs to vault over the masses of metal frames, window panes and rubber circles. The weasel slid past the grand doors of the Central Station, weaving through small bodies and gigantic legs to make his way up to the rooftops of some service stands. Clawhauser continued his pursuit from the ground as the weasel leaped onto the top of a bus that was pulling away, its destination the Zootennial Stadium. "No you don't," grunted Clawhauser grimly as he grit his jaws together and leaped onto a bench table, then onto a lamp post, and using some rigid power lines as a very thin trampoline, the cheetah made his jump onto the roof of the bus.

The weasel shrieked and jumped onto another passing bus. Clawhauser, unhesitating, followed in a millisecond. The slippery mugger tried another tactic to lose the doggedly persistent feline, using the duffel bag straps to sling himself around and away onto a nearby lamp post. Clawhauser wasn't able to react as quickly this time, allowing the weasel to forsake the bag and start sprinting for all he was worth to preserve his freedom. Snarling determinedly, Clawhauser yanked up the bag as he passed it, and bounding on all fours he quickly caught up and clamped his jaws around the criminal, who screamed.


Zootopia Police Department, Precinct One. A place where justice is meted out fairly to all. Where villains are prosecuted and heroes are exalted.

It's also a place where prejudice runs deep.

"You really think I'm gonna believe a fox?" Bogo snorted, glancing up from his paperwork to lay an uninterested eye on Nick.

"Sir, you have to believe me! She kicked my ass last night!" Nick protested, still unbelieving of the bias levelled against his species.

"Come on. A fox like you, losing against a cute little bunny? A likely story!" Bogo grunted.

Nick quickly decided to make the buffalo eat his words.

"If you think so highly of me, sir, then why don't you assign me on the missing mammals case?" the fox jabbed.

"I don't think you've got the gist of how we do things here, Wilde," Bogo rumbled, standing out of his seat, "New officers – like you – start out at the bottom of the pack."

"Freezing our asses off!" Nick's voice cut in like a knife through hot butter, "You knowingly and deliberately assigned my little buddy to the ruddy polar caps, sir!"

"Don't use that tone with me, Wilde! As I was saying, recruits start out at the bottom of the pack. Young foxes, like you especially, hold the rank of the runts in our herd. Then you work your way up from the pits to become our equals on the open ground."

"I can't help but notice the way you addressed my species with the word 'especially', sir," Nick noted pointedly.

"Are you going to continue showing cheek to me, officer?" queried Bogo, his ire beginning to spike. A voice over the intercom interrupted him. "Chief Bogo, Mrs Otterton would like to see you."

"Stocklag, tell her not now," the chief grunted back through the line.

"Now listen closely to me, Officer Wilde, because I will not be repeating this twice…"

The clank of the office door opening dissipated the molten mood of the room and snapped it to pieces as if it were brittle metal. A desolate, middle-aged female otter stepped in. "Please Chief Bogo! I just need five minutes of your time!" she pleaded tearfully.

A donkey officer nervously poked his head through. "Er, sorry about that sir. She moves quicker than a stabbed rat when she's passionate!"

"It's alright Bernie. Dismissed," Bogo replied to the dispatch officer, before returning his attention to the lady who stood in front of him.

"Ma'am," the chief attempted to politely diffuse the emotionally agitated otter, "Please, you must know that we are doing everything we can to locate all these missing mammals, and–"

"Please! Please there must be a spare officer that we could utilize to find my husband!"

"Ma'am," Nick spoke up as he stepped forward and looked at the older mammal, "I am that spare officer. Fill me in."

The otter gasped in relieved solace, "Oh, thank you! Bless you! God bless you, Officer Wilde!"

"You know my name?"

"Not just by your badge. You and Officer Shear are the hotspot discussions that are floating in popularity around the city," the otter said, then she pulled out what looked to be a family photo from her pawbag, "My husband has been missing for 10 days. His name is Emmitt Otterton. He's a florist. We have two beautiful children. He would never just disappear. Use this photo. Please find my Emmitt."

A silent pause came that no one respectful enough dared to break as the mother otter forced back her despairing sobs.

"Bring him home to me and my babies, please," the otter said at last. She laid a dire, imploring glance straight at Nick, who could only nod and salute in humble resoluteness. "it'll be my duty and my pleasure," he said to the lady.

"Um, Mrs Otterton? May you excuse us for a while?" asked Bogo through a forced smile, though only Nick took notice of this. The otter obediently and gracefully strutted out of the buffalo's office as he softly closed the door behind her.

"Just one sec."

Then Bogo turned around, a raging fire in his hazel eyes as he spoke his condemning words to Nick.

"You. Are. Fired."

"What?! Excuse me?!"

"You're an insubordinate, prideful, foolhardy sorry excuse for an animal. Call yourself a cop? You are nothing but a smug and greedy schemer!" Bogo thundered, though he kept his volume controlled. Nick gaped and glared in incredulous rage. Bogo wasn't finished yet. "Now when I open this door, you are going to tell Mrs Otterton that you are a former meter maid with delusions of grandeur who will not be taking the case."

As buffalo butt swung the door open again, both officers were greeted with the sight of Leodore Lionheart alongside Mrs Otterton. The lion was shaking the otter's paw before he turned, eyes alive with excitement, to Nick.

"I have just heard Officer Wilde is taking the case!" the lion announced, baritone voice booming with pride.

"Assistant Mayor Lionheart," greeted Bogo in an ironically sheepish voice.

"My Mammal Inclusion Initiative Programme is really starting to pay off!" the vice mayor grinned to himself, as he sent a quickly yet formally typed text message to the lead mayor.

"Bellwether's gonna launch herself over the moon with joy!"

No one noticed the chief of police doing a hoofpalm in silent, screaming frustration. Nor did they notice him utter out a quietly burning "Oh Lord…"

"Now that is done and dusted, Officer Wilde, let me congratulate you," Lionheart barked in his normal voice, stepping forward and vigorously shaking Nick's paw, "You're doing the city a real honour by stepping up to the call of duty when danger and crime rears their ugly heads."

"All part of wearing the blues, sir," Nick smiled back in modesty. He was sure his cheek fur was turning an even deeper shade of red.

"Well, good luck son," the voice mayor hooted as he clapped a paw down on the young fox's back. Nick oofed a bit but still kept his muzzle beaming ecstatically. The hulking lion and the flimsy otter waved their farewells as they strode off with joy and hope in their hearts.

Meanwhile, Nick was left to face the tiny little pieces of what remained of Bogo's wrath.

"Fox… I will give you 48 hours."

"Hurrah!"

"That's 2 days to find Mr Otterton."

"Got it," Nick chirped as he made his way to the door. Another summoning huff from Bogo gave him pause.

"BUT!" snapped the buffalo, before lowering his voice back to normal. "You strike out? You resign," he said in a disturbingly calm voice.

Nick held back a gulp.

"Okay…"

"Good," the chief said, suddenly sounding enthusiastic, "Officer Oates, our specialist in detective work, will show you your case file. As well as that, he will enter you into the ZPD Database System, to make life that much more easier for you. Do. Not. Fail."

Nick wasn't hesitating.

"Yessir," he quickly puffed before slipping out of the open office door like the wind.


"Officer Oates!" Nick called as he entered the workplace of his childhood idol.

"Ah, Officer Wilde! I've seen you've finally been assigned a case! I knew you had potential, son!" the old police horse said, greeting his young fan enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it's the one about Emmitt Otterton," replied Nick, intending to fill his idol in on what his new case was to be about.

"Ah, old Emmitt. Knew the fellow since elementary," the senior mammal reminisced, "Good times… Now here's your case file, young one."

The horse passed a manila folder to the fox, who opened it and scanned the details. It was alarmingly bare. "Now," Nick began, "Not to be hasty, or something, but can I also get into the database to search for info?"

"Already done you in, sonny. The chief told me just when he sent you down here."

"Whoo," Nick whistled in awe, "Thanks sir!"

"It's the least I could do, Nicky. For you, your mother, and predators in general. Just do us all proud, won't ya?"

"Yes sir. Will do, sir," Nick chirred, saluting the senior cop as he made his way over to the spare mac computer.

Nick typed in the missing mammal's name.

E-M-M-I-T-T.

O-T-T-E-R-T-O-N.

The details on the file came up. Nick skimmed through what he already knew. He clicked on the link called "Last Known Sighting". The link led to a video, which Nick scrutinized heavily.

He saw that the video sighting took place around dusk, along the main street that cut a linking path that ran from Savanna Central to Downtown and beyond. Emmitt Otterton was seen in a sleek white limo with a plate that read 2-9-T-H-D-0-3.

Nick paused the video and copied the letters onto a hasty email that he would forward to Flash at the DMV, requesting his sloth friend to run the plate and find out whom the limo belonged to, and to text the fox when he deciphered the results.

Turning his attention back to the video, Nick caught sight of a small grey bunny, no older than 15, with amethyst eyes, carrying a bucket of soapy water and a squeegee as she offered her services to drivers waiting in the agonizing traffic. A small shrew that Nick knew to be 3 years the bunny's senior, was perched on the rim of the bucket, holding onto the upright handle.

The fox's face fell, and his enthusiasm took quite a plummet.

"Oh no… not those two…"